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Updated: May 6, 2025
I know it sounds like a raving delirium, but when Max came down and squizzled some bacon, as he said, and told Flannigan about the robbery, and how, whether it was a joke or deadly earnest, somebody in the house had taken Anne's pearls, that wretched policeman winked at me solemnly over Max's shoulder. Oh, it was awful!
"I have solved it," he said. "Or, rather, Flannigan and I have solved it. The mixture awaits the magic touch of the cook." I honestly thought I could do the rest. It was only to be put in a pan and browned, and then in the oven three minutes. The latter, however, was Mr. Harbison's fault as much as mine, and I had wit enough to lay it to absent-mindedness on the part of both of us.
And you know most of the witnesses will be our friends, and, as Seely has just remarked, it will be pretty hard to worm the truth out of unwilling witnesses." "But supposing they do convict, what will you do then?" asked Capt. Flannigan.
As it happened, however, I need not have worried. I went down to dinner, languidly, when every one was seated, and found Max at my right, and Mr. Harbison moved over beside Bella. Every one was talking at once, for Flannigan, ambling around the table as airily as he walked his beat, had presented Bella with her bracelet on a salad plate, garnished with romaine.
Flannigan, from meekness and submission, of a sort, in the kitchen, became an autocrat on the roof. "Once more," he would say. "Pick up your feet, sir! Pick up your feet!" And Jim would stagger doggedly past me, where I sat on the parapet, his poor cheeks shaking and the tail of his bath robe wrapping itself around his legs. Yes, he ran in the bath robe in deference to me.
You is de only lady I 'd be satisfied ter marry after knowin' you. Ef you casts me off I 'll spen' de rest er my days in lonesomeness an' mis'ry." Mrs. Flannigan affected much surprise and embarrassment at this bold declaration. "Oh, Misther Braboy," she said, covering him with a coy glance, "an' it 's rale 'shamed I am to hev b'en talkin' ter ye ez I hev.
Are you all mad?" demanded a wrathful subaltern, plunging round the traverse to where Snapper mouth-organed the "Marseillaise," 'Enery Irving lustily intoned his anthem of the Blind Mice, and Corporal Flannigan passed from the deep lowing of a cow to the clarion calls of the farmyard rooster.
Don't you kick me under the table, Flannigan, I won't stand it. I know what I am doing. You are wrong, sir," he continued, turning to me, "utterly wrong." "Some passing ship, perhaps," suggested Dick. "No, nor that either." "The weather is fine," I said; "why should we not be heard of at our destination." "I didn't say we shouldn't be heard of at our destination.
"The only way to take a man's weight down," Flannigan said dryly. Jim got up dizzily. "Down on the roof, I suppose you mean," he said. The next proceedings were mysterious. Flannigan rolled the barrel into the tent, and carried in a small glass lamp. With the material at hand he seemed to be effecting a combination, no new one, to judge by his facility. Then he called Jim.
To an imaginative looker-on those idly toying fingers had an indefinable air of being very much at home with the trigger of the six-shooter at the lad's belt. So, at least, it struck Lem Keith. "Swing him round for old Mother Flannigan! You've swung him so nice, now swing him again, again! On to the next, and swing that gent! Now straight back, and swing your own man again!"
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